


Jerk It

by Sauronix



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: And Some Not So Solo Action, Catching Your Friends Wanking, Explicit Sexual Content, Jacking it, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Pornographic Material, Sexual Frustration, beating the meat, helping hand, jerking off, self-loving, solo action
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 08:53:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12678564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sauronix/pseuds/Sauronix
Summary: The first thing Gladio sees when he sticks his head through the flap is Noct lying on top of his sleeping bag in nothing but his underwear, his head propped up on his backpack, his eyes fixed on Gladio. He’s got his phone in one hand. The other hand is down the front of his boxer shorts, totally still, like an anak stag caught in headlights. A series of feral grunts and meaty smacks come from his phone’s speaker. It’s not hard to work out what he’s been up to.“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Gladio groans.Catching one's friends beating off while on an extended road trip is kind of inevitable. Gladio just didn't expect it to happen quite this much. Four times Gladio walked in on his friends jerking off, and one time Ignis walked in on Gladio.





	Jerk It

**[1]**

  
  
In hindsight, forgetting his wallet in their room at the Leville was the fatal mistake.  
  
“Shit,” he says. He pats his pockets as Noct and Ignis pause, turning on the sidewalk to look at him. “I need to double back, guys. I’ll meet you at the bar.”  
  
Noctis nods. “Sure. Maybe try one more time to convince Prompto to come out with us?”  
  
Gladio snorts. Fat chance of that happening. They asked him at least five times before they left the hotel, and Prompto gave a firm no every single time. _I’m tired_ , he said. _I didn’t sleep well last night. I’m just gonna shower and go to bed. Have a round on me, though, okay?_  
  
But Gladio agrees to ask anyway, because Noct sounds so hopeful, and makes his way back to the Leville. Whistling, he pulls the keycard for their room out of his pocket as he takes the stairs two at a time. He doesn’t bother knocking, figuring Prompto’s either in the shower or fast asleep by now, and he doesn’t want to disturb him. So he slips the keycard into the reader and quietly opens the door—  
  
—only to find Prompto spread out on the nearest bed, his pants tangled around his knees and his dick in his hand. They stare at each other in mute horror as a chorus of theatrical moans—all female, Gladio can’t help noticing—explode from the speaker of his phone. Gladio’s frozen to the spot, his gaze moving from Prompto’s ashen face to the erection wilting in his hand, then back again.  
  
“Dude, what the hell?” Prompto finally yelps. He throws his phone across the room and yanks a pillow over his crotch. “Ever heard of knocking?”  
  
“Why would I knock? You said you were gonna sleep.” Pointedly looking at anything but Prompto, Gladio goes to the nightstand next to the bed he’s supposed to share with Ignis and grabs his wallet. “You could’ve done this in the shower, you know.”  
  
Prompto’s face goes as red as an ulwaat berry. “I can’t bring my phone in there.”  
  
Ah. Right.  
  
Gladio picks up Prompto’s phone off the floor and looks at the screen. It’s still playing the lesbian porn he was watching—a brunette very enthusiastically eating out a platinum blonde while a third woman gropes her tits. Pretty run-of-the-mill stuff, and typical of the porn on LucisX. It might be hot, if it wasn’t so damn fake.  
  
“You can’t tell Noct,” Prompto pleads.  
  
“Wasn’t planning to,” Gladio says. He wrinkles his nose, remembering Noct has to sleep in that bed tonight. “Just get housekeeping to change the sheets when you’re done, okay?”  
  
Prompto nods frantically.  
  
Gladio shoves his wallet into his back pocket and tosses the phone back to Prompto. “Well, don’t let me ruin your fun.”  
  
“Dude!” Prompto shouts as Gladio slips back out into the hall, letting the door whisper closed behind him. “The fun’s already ruined!”  


  
**[2]**

  
  
He thought the incident with Prompto would be the first and only time he had to walk in on one of his friends beating his meat, but he was wrong.  
  
It happens again when they’re camping near the Wennath, just east of Malmalam Thicket. It’s still a couple of hours before sundown, and in the golden light, Gladio trudges back to the haven with a bundle of firewood under his arm. As he approaches, he doesn’t see anyone at their campsite, but that ain’t really a surprise. The guys said they were gonna head down to the river for a bath. If he holds his breath and listens really hard, he can hear their voices carrying up from the riverbank.  
  
Well, Prompto’s voice, anyway.  
  
He puts his load of firewood down at the edge of the haven and wipes a sweaty hand over his sweaty face. Hauling logs around for a good half hour ain’t easy work, especially not in this swampy air. A dip in the river sounds fucking heavenly right about now. Stifling a grunt as he stretches one arm, then the other, he makes for the tent to get his soap and towel.  
  
The first thing he sees when he sticks his head through the flap is Noct lying on top of his sleeping bag in nothing but his underwear, his head propped up on his backpack, his eyes fixed on Gladio. He’s got his phone in one hand. The other hand is down the front of his boxer shorts, totally still, like an anak stag caught in headlights. A series of feral grunts and meaty smacks come from his phone’s speaker. It’s not hard to work out what he’s been up to.  
  
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Gladio groans.  
  
Unlike Prompto, Noct doesn’t freak out. He just pulls his hand out of his shorts and hits pause on whatever hardcore porn he was watching. “I thought you’d be gone longer.”  
  
“You know we have to share this tent, right?”  
  
Noct shrugs. “I wasn’t gonna jizz all over your pillows or anything.”  
  
Gladio groans again, pained, and shakes his head like he can dislodge that statement from his brain. “I thought you were down at the river.”  
  
“Yeah, but I was horny. I told Specs and Prompto I’d meet them there.” Noct looks at him pointedly. “You gonna let me finish up, or what?”  
  
Six. Leave it to Noct to be so goddamn matter of fact about masturbating. He’s gonna have to set the entire tent on fire when they’re done with this road trip, because there’s no way in hell he’s letting Iris sleep in here ever again.  
  
“Yeah, yeah.” Gladio rolls his eyes and points to his rucksack, tucked neatly against the wall of the tent next to Noct. “Just pass me my towel first, won’t you?”  


  
**[3]**

  
  
When they stop to refuel at a Coernix near Cauthess, Noct sits in the car playing with his phone, and Prompto disappears, unannounced. The Crow’s Nest is a good bet, or maybe he’s off taking a shit. Gladio doesn’t know, and he doesn’t have the luxury to think about it, because Iggy’s suddenly at his elbow, harassing him to help with a resupply.  
  
They spend ten minutes picking potions and antidotes and cans of Ebony off the shelves. Iggy chatters on about the weather and road construction as he drops phials into the basket Gladio’s carrying, but Gladio’s too busy staring at his lips to listen to much of what he’s saying.  
  
After, Gladio helps Iggy carry the paper bags to the trunk before he goes to hit the head. He knocks softly on the restroom door behind the station. When he gets no response, he tries the handle. It gives under his palm and glides open.  
  
Inside, Prompto’s bracing himself on the grimy countertop, his pants around his thighs, and he’s fucking his fist like the gods are gonna strike him dead if he doesn’t come in the next ten seconds. There’s a glossy skin rag open on the countertop next to him. The woman on the centerfold is butt naked and winking, her legs spread for the camera. Gladio looks at it, then at Prompto, and the blond lets out an embarrassed peep as their eyes meet in the mirror.  
  
“Dude!” he shouts, just as Gladio says, “C’mon!”  
  
It’s like a bad joke.  
  
Prompto stuffs himself back in his pants. “I locked the door, I swear!”  
  
“What?” Gladio checks the handle, and sure enough, the lock is broken. That’s beside the point, though. “Are you seriously jacking off in a rest stop bathroom? You’re gonna catch a disease in here.”  
  
“Well, where the hell else am I supposed to do it?”  
  
“I told you last time. The shower.”  
  
Prompto folds his arms over his chest, trying for a scowl, but the fuchsia splotches on his cheeks kill the hostility. “The water’s always cold by the time you’re done in there.”  
  
“Not my fault you’re fourth in line every morning.” Wrinkling his nose, he glances around the bathroom—at the overflowing garbage pail, at the dirty, trampled toilet paper strewn across the floor, at what looks suspiciously like a pile of crusty vomit behind the can. The place ain’t fit for humans. “Look, Iggy’s ready to go and I have to take a leak. Do you mind?”  
  
Prompto grumbles and zips himself up, rolling the porno mag into a tube before tucking it under his arm. He tries to push past Gladio, but Gladio stops him with a hand on his chest.  
  
“Better toss that thing,” he says, nodding at the magazine, then at the trash. “You’ve got another thing coming if you think Iggy’s gonna let you in the car with it.”  


  
**[4]**  


Iggy is the last person he expects to catch jerking off.  
  
They’re at Wiz Chocobo Post, grabbing a few hours of downtime before they head back to Lestallum. Noct and Prompto are off taking photos with the chocobos, and Iggy’s puttering around inside the caravan. Gladio sits in one of the plastic chairs outside, his feet propped up on the table as he reads his book.  
  
It’s a hot day. The breeze ain’t strong enough to cool the sweat beading on his upper lip and the back of his neck, and he’s starting to get swamp ass. A beer would be nice. Wiping his face on the back of his arm, he glances up at the shop on the other side of the chocobo pens. They probably don’t sell booze, but if he asks real nice, maybe Wiz’ll give him a pilsner from his own fridge.  
  
But before he heads over there, he may as well find out if Iggy wants anything from the store.  
  
He rises, stretching, and sets his book aside. A quick glance through the window tells him Iggy’s not in the kitchen, leaving only two other places he could be. Gladio climbs into the caravan and checks the cramped bathroom—empty—before making for the sleeping quarters at the back. He doesn’t even think to knock before he pushes the shitty, folding vinyl door open.  
  
Iggy’s inside, sitting on one of the bunks, his shirttails hanging out and his pants undone. He’s got his head tilted back, his eyes closed, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. It takes Gladio a second to register exactly what the hell’s going on.  
  
Iggy’s jerking it.  
  
A choked sound comes out of him. Iggy’s eyes fly open, just in time to catch Gladio gawking at his dick. _Shit_. He’s never gotten a look at Iggy’s cock before, not even soft, so seeing it hard? Seeing it clutched in Iggy’s fist, the head flushed and swollen? Well, it’s better than any porno he’s ever watched. All the blood in his body seems to rush to his face and his junk at the same time.  
  
Before he can stop himself, he glances at the phone lying on the bed next to him. There’s a picture of some ripped guy on it. A ripped guy with dark hair and dark eyes. A ripped guy who looks an awful lot like—  
  
“Gladio,” Ignis starts to say, but Gladio doesn’t wait around to listen.  
  
Turning on his heel, he storms out to the patio, running both his hands through his hair.  
  
He just caught Ignis jerking off.  
  
In their caravan.  
  
To a picture of an erotic model who looks like Gladio.  
  
_Fuck_.  
  
He’s still trying to process it when Iggy joins him. His face is red and his hair is disheveled, but all of his clothes are in their proper place. When their eyes meet, Iggy looks away again, flushing harder.  
  
“Gladio, I apologize,” he says, almost tripping over the words. Gladio can’t remember the last time he saw Iggy this flustered. “I didn’t mean to—I shouldn’t have—that is—”  
  
Gladio lets out a shaky laugh. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.”  
  
“It was hardly appropriate.” Iggy gives Gladio a guarded look, folding his arms around himself.  
  
“We’ve been on the road for weeks. We’ve had no privacy. I get it, Iggy, seriously.”  
  
“Still—”  
  
Gladio nods at the caravan. “So you’d better get back in there and finish up before the other two start lookin’ for their dinner. You never know when you’ll get another chance.” When Iggy doesn’t move, only stares at him with disbelieving sea green eyes, Gladio makes a shooing motion with his hand. “Seriously, go. I’ll keep those two out of the caravan until you’re done.”  
  
For a second, he thinks Iggy’s going to chew him out for sticking his nose into his sex life, but then his lips curve into a soft, shy smile.  
  
“Thank you,” he says.  
  
Gladio smiles back, and after another few seconds of standing around awkwardly, Iggy returns to the caravan. Maybe he won’t finish up after all. Maybe getting caught in the act killed Iggy’s boner good and dead. It doesn’t matter either way.  
  
Because try as Gladio might, he can’t focus on his book. All he can think about is that look of bliss on Iggy’s face, in the split second before he realized Gladio was there.  
  


**[5]**  


He should’ve known his turn would come sooner or later.  
  
They’re at Cape Caem when he finds a few minutes to steal back to his room—the one at the very top of the old house where Iris, Dustin, and Monica are living, the one that’s so small there’s no space for anything but two beds and a nightstand. When they arrived, he claimed one bed. Iggy took the other. Their luggage is still piled on one of the beds when he closes the door behind him, his hands shaking with excitement.  
  
He crosses to the window to reassure himself that everyone’s still where he left them. Iris and Ignis, in the garden, conversing over a row of carrots. Dustin and Monica, working on the beat-up truck at the end of the dirt lane. Noct and Prompto? He’s not sure where they are, but he’s betting they’re at the lighthouse.  
  
Someone’s bound to come looking for him soon enough, but it should only take a few minutes to rub one out.  
  
He shrugs out of his jacket and flops onto the empty bed, pushing his pants down just enough to get his cock out. Briefly, he considers looking up some porn—maybe something quick and dirty on LucisX—but it ain’t like he needs it. He’s got plenty of nice images in his head to get him over the finish line.  
  
Closing his eyes, he starts to work his dick, thinking of Iggy jerking himself off in the caravan. He summons the memory of Iggy’s face, soft with pleasure, and his hand moving over his own cock, a slow drag up and down, like he has all the time in the world. Gladio wants Iggy to touch him like that. He’s wanted Iggy to touch him like that for a long time. He lets out a shaky breath as he pictures Iggy putting a hand on him, jerking him with lazy strokes, his eyes darkening as he watches precome bead on the head of Gladio’s cock.  
  
He rubs a thumb over the frenulum and pretends it’s Iggy’s tongue instead. Pretends it’s Iggy teasing him, Iggy swallowing him down, Iggy’s lips and hands working together to get him off. Gladio lets out a shaky breath and jerks himself a little bit harder, a little bit faster.  
  
He’s so lost in it, he doesn’t hear the footsteps out in the hall. All he can hear is the slicking sound of his hand moving over his dick, until the creak of the door opening cuts into it. By then, it’s too late. His breath catches in his throat and his heart drops into his stomach.  
  
What if it’s Monica? Shit, what if it’s _Iris_?  
  
But it ain’t either of them. He glances up and finds Iggy standing on the threshold, hand on the doorknob, and looking at Gladio with an unreadable expression on his pale face. Oh. Oh, no. Oh, _Six_. Gladio should probably get his hand off his dick, or crawl under the covers, or fall off the face of the earth, but he can’t move. It’s like he’s pinned to the bed by Iggy’s gaze.  
  
Iggy doesn’t say anything, either. He opens his mouth, then closes it. He looks away, pushing his glasses up his nose. He takes a step back, then pauses, then looks up at Gladio again. It’s like he has no idea what to do any more than Gladio does.  
  
“Do you want me to go?” he asks softly.  
  
“What?” Gladio breathes.  
  
Iggy swallows, and Gladio can see his Adam’s apple bobbing even from across the room. “Do you want me to go?” he repeats.  
  
Gladio only hesitates for a split second before he shakes his head, licking his lips. No, he doesn’t want Iggy to go. He has no idea what this means, and he’s freaking out inside, but he ain’t gonna send Iggy away when it’s clear he doesn’t mind seeing Gladio like this. Hell, when it’s clear he might like it.  
  
Cock aching, he watches as Iggy closes the door and approaches the bed. Is Iggy gonna lend him a hand? Is Iggy gonna jerk him off instead? He has to bite back a moan at the thought of it.  
  
Iggy sits on the bed next to him, his gaze roving over Gladio’s cock and bare chest. When their eyes meet, his face is flushed, but it definitely ain’t from embarrassment. “Don’t stop,” he says.  
  
_Oh, fuck._  
  
Gladio starts to stroke himself again, watching Iggy watch him. A small part of him is self-conscious, wondering if Iggy likes what he sees. The other part—the part that wants Iggy so bad it hurts—is horny as hell.  
  
As Gladio works himself back up to a brisk pace, Iggy leans in, like he’s going for a kiss, but he stops just shy of Gladio’s mouth. This close, Gladio can smell his sweat and aftershave, a heady blend of musk and cedar. Six, he can practically taste him. Those soft lips hovering so close to his own should probably be classified as some form of torture. Gladio wants that kiss almost more than the orgasm he’s trying to wring out of himself.  
  
“Iggy,” he whispers, pleading, straining off the pillow to chase his lips.  
  
Iggy pulls away, beyond his reach. Groaning, Gladio screws his eyes shut and jerks his cock with a violent desperation, almost fucking his fist. He can feel Iggy’s breath on his face again, ghosting over his mouth. But Iggy never comes close enough to touch. He just keeps teasing, drawing back when Gladio blindly tries to claim him.  
  
“Please,” he begs.  
  
Finally, _finally_ , soft lips graze against his own, just the barest hint of a kiss, but it’s enough. Fuck, it’s enough. Shaking, his head tossed back on the pillow, Gladio comes, letting out a sound that’s something between a sob and a moan. He rocks his hips into his hand as he rides it out. Through the waves of pleasure, he feels Iggy’s lips trailing down his throat, feather-light.  
  
Then he pulls away.  
  
Gladio opens his eyes slowly and looks up at him. Iggy’s still sitting there, and he holds Gladio’s gaze, guarded but interested. Is his dick hard? Gladio can’t help but wonder. He hopes so. He hopes Iggy wants him as much as he wants Iggy.

Cautiously, he places a hand on Iggy’s thigh, and he’s reassured when Iggy lets him keep it there. “Can I return the favour?” he asks.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing about dudes jerking off is harder than it sounds. (No pun intended. Really.) 
> 
> Thanks to the Chill XV crew for helping me work through some logistics. And thanks to you guys for reading; kudos and/or comments are much appreciated!


End file.
